I glare at him.
He’s… Ugh. I cannot.
I tug at my bonds, but they’re tight. Sebastian Laurent doesn’t do things by halves.
He huffs with irritation, as though it’s my fault this has happened, and his gaze slides down my body, his expression serious and contemplative. I shiver with… I’d like to say cold. But it’s not. It’s the idea that he might like what he sees. Me, in a fancy dress, at his mercy.
My nipples pucker and though I try to ignore my body’s reaction, I can’t deny it. Being restrained by Sebastian Laurent is… Alright, it’s hot af. I like it despite the panic and resentment and simple downright pissed-offness, I… Want him.
He lifts me onto the seat with surprisingly gentle hands after the force of tying me up, then settles opposite. Jaw working, eyes sparking with frustration, he stares in silence until his phone trills into life. He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he answers with a snapped single word: his name. “Laurent.”
Whatever he hears makes his brows lower into a scowl. “Send a team to deal with them. I want that safe house back.”
Hanging up, he taps on the glass and speaks to the driver. All I catch is, “home”.
There’s a long silence, until eventually Sebastian says, “This isn’t how I planned it.”
“What do you want, a cookie?” I snip back at him.
“He’d have taken you to Fletcher at gunpoint.”
That man. And the shiver this time is from fear. He had a gun, and he was coming right for me. I didn’t see him until he’d almost grabbed me and if Sebastian hadn’t been there…
The car comes to a stop and Sebastian doesn’t hesitate. The door is open and he’s lifting me, and I can’t hang on or do anything but yell in annoyance as he tosses me over his shoulder.
“Put me down!”
He’s carrying me like I’m a sack of spuds.
I thud my tied hands against his back and all that succeeds in is demonstrating to me he’s all muscle. All warm, hard muscle that doesn’t yield at all as I thwack him pointlessly with the sides of my wrists.
“No.” His voice is more a rumble through my stomach than in my ears.
His arm is braced over the backs of my knees and… My butt must be about level with his face.
Oh god. No. No.
Book a decent guitar player for my funeral because I’m dying.
I’ve died. I’m dead.
The humiliation of Sebastian having his face right next to my butt as he carries me is the end.
Done.
Blood is rushing to my head and I have to hold myself up by pushing down on his buttocks to prevent myself from passing out. My breasts are hanging down and it must be the angle that makes my nipples feel tight. I barely notice the elevator, and when the doors slide open it isn’t to a corridor like a normal person. No, it’s into an elegant entrance hall as clearly he owns the whole floor. Sebastian doesn’t stop until we’re in a lounge with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the entirety of London.
He drops me onto a sofa and stands back, folding his arms. “Are you going to behave if I untie you?”
I shrug.
It’s petulant, I know, but I have spent five years in an exclusive educational boarding prison—sorry, school—and I had just managed to get out into the real world. Now I’m at square one again.
“Sorry I had to restrain you,” he says softly then pauses. Kneeling before me, he unties my ankles. I consider kicking him, but there’s probably no point. All he’d do is tie me up again.
He frowns when I wince at him moving my foot. They’re sore from dancing all night in those heels. With surprising dexterity, he removes my shoes, hissing as he sees the blisters.
“Those are going in the bin,” he says in a voice like stone, tossing the shoes aside.
I don’t object. Partly because I’m not in a position to argue here. But regardless, they hardly brought me luck, did they?
“I like your new name. Very French.” His thumb slips against my bare leg in a caress so brief I wonder if I’ve imagined it.
“It was nothing to do with you.” Not consciously. The name I chose is a constant reminder of who I’m not. Of how alone I am. Not even a surname in common with anyone.
Then he unties my wrists and my skin tingles wherever his rougher, bigger hands touch mine. I take the opportunity to examine him. There are streaks of silver in his hair now that there weren’t when I knew him before, but otherwise he’s just as I remember. Gorgeous, dark, untouchable. Protective older man vibes.
“How old are you?”
He sits back onto his haunches, forearms on his knees. Steel eyes assess me. “Thirty-nine.”
Too mature to be interested in an eighteen-year-old lost princess. I’m imagining his interest, for sure. A figure of my overactive imagination.
I cannot believe that only yesterday I was furtively browsing the gossip columns and admiring the photos of Sebastian Laurent, wondering what my life would have been like if the stars had aligned differently. If we had met some other time, some other way. Would Sebastian be my husband now? That wasn’t what I wanted five years ago, but tastes mature. Change.
Then change back when a man kidnaps you.
Mostly.
I rub my wrists where they’re a little sore from the ropes. But despite the pain, I know if I was with Fletcher things would be much worse. “Why did you help me?”
“Curious now, are you?”
“Kidnappy now, are you? One of these things is illegal.” Because saving me from Fletcher and being handsome doesn’t make him the good guy.
He sighs. “Okay. I’ll answer.”
“Truthfully?” I’m suspicious.
“Yes. If you stay here.”
“Just stay. Like a dog or a china doll… Sit around.” I give a growl of exasperation and stand abruptly. I stride to the window and look out over London, the glow of life and excitement. Barred to me, as usual. “That is all I was destined for as the Carter princess, all I’ve been allowed to do for five years, and all you want me to do now.”
The windows disappear below the surface, giving the impression you could step straight out into the air and walk until you notice the lack of floor, like a Looney Tunes character. Vertigo tugs at me as I look down.
I step right to the edge, toes millimetres from the glass. My breath fogs the black and twinkling yellow lights of the city.
It’s a silly urge, but I place my palms on the window and push. In a movie I’d be able to throw myself through the glass or open it and fly away. But this is real life, so it’s perfectly immovable. My next gilded cage.
Sebastian appears next to me. In the reflection I see his bow tie is now loose around his neck and his top button is undone, revealing that dip between the collarbones.
It’s… Compelling. I wonder how it would feel to touch my thumb into the curve.
I look back at the city.
“It’s beautiful. The night skyline,” I say. Those lights represent millions of people, far away. Not even one who really cares about me. At least if I was at home in my tiny flat I could chat with my new astrology friends on social media and not feel so isolated.
“Beautiful, yes.” But Sebastian’s voice is a caress, not at all like he’s admiring the night sky. “I understand why you want independence—”
“No!” I turn on him. “You don’t. You’ve always been able to do whatever you wanted. You were the heir then the head of Laurent. You had the freedom to choose. I—I had nothing to do but wait to be sold off as a bride. When I fought against that, my father just sold me quicker. Years of protective custody and education. And finally—finally—I have a job I’m good at after graduating high school. I’ll lose it if I don’t turn up for work. So, no.” My chest is heaving as I pour out my frustration. Tears threaten at the corner of my eyes. “You don’t understand. I nearly got taken by that man. I couldn’t stop you from kidnapping me. I couldn’t stop Fletcher when he came for me years ago. I thought I was safe, and I don’t want to be a helpless princess any longer.” Lost.
He’s silent.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says eventually. His grey eyes are soft now. “I’ll teach you to defend yourself from me, or someone like me, trying to do anything you don’t want to do. And I’ll answer your questions. All of them. And in return, I want you to remain here for one day. Until Midnight tomorrow.”
One day. “But my job.”
“I’ll call in sick for you. Your boss will understand for a single day.”
“A day alone in your apartment.” What a dreary prospect. More of just me and four walls. I can never sleep on my own in a new place, so bonus I’ll be miserable and knackered.
“Not alone.” My heart jumps. “I’ll phone in sick too.”
“To who? You’re a mafia kingpin.”
“A higher authority. You perhaps.” He winks.
I can’t help but smile wryly. Sebastian is putting business on hold to kidnap me.
Me. The lost princess everyone had forgotten about.
Except maybe Sebastian didn’t? He’s looking at me like he’s trying to tattoo my image onto his retinas.
Though perhaps I’m imagining that. I’m not good at attracting sincere affection or interest. Exhibit A: my father who only used me in his power games. Exhibit B: my ex-husband. Exhibit C: my innocence.
Sebastian is the first man to touch me and that was because he was kidnapping me.
“Alright.”
Sebastian smiles wide and genuine, his eyes twinkling. As though twenty-four hours with me is a treat rather than a bind. I stare at him and remember the second when I thought Fletcher’s man would take me. The sheer bolt of terror and the quiver of helplessness. Maybe I’m naive, but I think Sebastian is genuinely trying to protect me.
“What would you like to learn first?” he asks softly.
Teach me how to kiss, I almost say. Teach me how to make you come apart at the seams. Show me how to make my body sing.
“You snatched me from behind. I want to know how to stop that happening.”
I’ll not be a victim again. Not of Sebastian, or anyone else.
